


Down By the Seaside

by feelskilledthefangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, SPN Short Stories, Summer, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 07:20:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13946382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feelskilledthefangirl/pseuds/feelskilledthefangirl
Summary: Sam and Dean get the rare opportunity to enjoy a summer by the beach while their father is on a hunt.





	Down By the Seaside

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Seasons: A Supernatural Fanfiction Anthology

It was hot and humid; the ozone was thick enough to the taste the salty sea brine that hung in the air. Golden sand gleamed upon the ground as harsh rays of sunlight beat down upon it. Seagulls squawked in the sky, diving down every so often in the hope of snatching a meal from unsuspecting victims, and full heavy waves crashed onto the sand, pulling shells back into the depths with each retreat.  
Bubbling sea foam curled around long, lanky legs, tickling the soft, tanned skin of Sam Winchester as he stood in the ocean spray. Shivering involuntarily, Sam watched the rippling sea swirling around him, the water cold as ice in contrast to the muggy summer air. When a wave came barreling towards Sam, he dove forward, closing his eyes and submerging himself in the churning water. After resurfacing, he blinked against the stinging salt water that dripped from his hair and into his eyes. His skin glistened wet and shiny as sand shifted and stirred beneath the soles of his feet.  
Turning his back to the shimmering water, Sam let his eyes scan the sandy shore until he found the unmistakable outline of his big brother, Dean. Dean was lounging on a beach towel; sunglasses perched precariously on the bridge of his nose and a bottle of beer nestled in his hand. He looked more peaceful and content than Sam had seen him in years.  
Sam waved at his brother and watched Dean flash him a twinkling smile along with a nod of acknowledgment in his direction. They were both having the time of their lives, finally getting their first real beach trip. Summer had just begun, and so far this was the best year yet.  
Their father had uprooted them from a motel in Oklahoma City and taken them on a seventeen-hour drive to Charleston, South Carolina. John had found a job involving the ghost of a Civil War soldier haunting military bases along the coast.  
Once they arrived in Charleston, their father rented a cheap log cabin that overlooked the ocean. Sam could barely contain his excitement when he heard the waves crashing against the shore. After settling in, Sam dragged Dean to the nearest gift shop so they could each buy a pair of swim trunks. Just for laughs, Dean tried to convince his brother to get a pair of skimpy Speedos. The bitch face Sam had given him for the suggestion was totally worth it! In the end, Sam chose a pair of blue and gray plaid swim trunks while Dean got a green and gray pair.  
Once they returned to the cabin, Dean packed a cooler full of drinks while Sam found some beach towels. Then they set off, bare feet sinking into the warm sand and eyes locked on the clear blue water ahead. They managed to find a nice secluded area of the beach where no one would bother them. Matching smiles split across their faces when the rippling water flowed over their feet for the first time. As the water pulled away again, bubbles of air popped around their toes, the crashing waves humming with the promise of fun.  
They spend the entire day down at the beach reveling in the feeling of freedom in their hearts. Dean laughed at Sam when he chased the gulls that ventured too close. The boys teased crabs on the shore –until one of them got revenge and pinched Dean’s toes–, hip deep in the ocean, they had splash wars and looked for fish under the water, digging their feet into the gritty wet sand. Sam even managed to convince Dean to help him build a sandcastle, even though the rising tide later swallowed it.  
As evening began to fall, the setting sun turned the sky a dusty orange and pink. Sam and Dean sat side by side, watching the sea consume the remaining rays of light. When stars began to twinkle overhead, they lay back; T-shirts balled up underneath their heads so they could gaze up at the darkened sky. Here, far away from city lights, it seemed as if the stars were winking at them. Waves continued to crash against the sand, and it was the only sound that could be heard filling the night air. They didn’t say much as they watched the stars, but Sam and Dean felt more alive than they had felt in ages.  
Eventually, Sam broke the silence and gasped, “Look!”  
Sam pointed upwards in wonderment as a shooting star flashed overhead, dimples on full display as a delighted smile lit up his face.  
“Make a wish Sammy,” Dean told his brother in a hushed whisper, his eyes tracing the star’s path until it vanished again.  
Though neither boy voiced their wish aloud, the two of them shared the same idea. They hoped that they would never have to leave this place. They wanted to stay here on this salty seaside, where everything remained simple, until the end of time.  
When they returned to the cabin, an idea struck Dean. He quickly found a switchblade and stepped onto the back porch. Sam followed his brother, watching as Dean lifted the blade to the wall and began to carve.  
Gleaming metal pressed against wood, the tip of the knife sank easily into the salt-saturated surface. Dean’s tongue poked out between his lips as he cut into the previously unmarred wall. Each cut he made was steady and sure, deep enough to ensure that the lines wouldn’t disappear over time.  
When Dean finished, and he stepped back, the initials ‘D.W.’ were left behind. The carving stood out clear as day against the sun faded wood. Dean gave a small nod of satisfaction, and then passed the knife over to Sam.  
Confidently, Sam took the knife from his brother; its hilt warm and familiar in his palm as he curled his fingers around it. With a firm, steady grip on the blade, Sam stepped closer to the wall. His brow furrowed in concentration as he made the first cut. He tried to keep his lines as smooth and clean and Dean’s. Sam wanted this to look perfect.  
When Sam was done, he stepped back and returned the knife to his brother. Carefully, Dean slipped the blade into his pocket before he draped an arm over Sam’s shoulders, both of them taking a moment to admire their work. Just below Dean’s initials, were Sam’s initials, ‘S.W.’, standing out pale and fresh in the darkened wood. The carving was almost identical to the initials they carved into the Impala’s interior when they were younger, the one true place they called home.  
Though the boys would probably never return to this beach, the memories they made here would still live on without them. Now, anyone who stayed in this little cabin might just spot these initials etched into the wall and wonder about the people who had put them there and what memories they represented. These walls would never talk, choosing to stand silent and unyielding, holding the secrets of childhood innocence and keeping the hopes and dreams of two young boys alive until the end of time.


End file.
